Undercover at The Elvsworth Club
by S. Winter-Fitzgerald
Summary: Phryne and Jack go undercover at an exclusive Club as a married couple and soon find out that their feelings towards each other don't make the task of catching a murderer any easier. Set in the same universe of Angry, Half in Love, and Tremendously Sorry.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** The characters (or any other detail you may recognise from the show) don't belong to me, obviously.

I tried to be as accurate as possible both regarding canon and historical facts but it's easier said than done sometimes, especially because some details are all over the place in the show (like timelines) and others aren't even mentioned - I think - and the first may influence the latter (as well as some bumps in research). Please forgive any inaccuracies derived from these circumstances.

ETA: Wendell Yates is not supposed to be related to Cec at all. This surname had been on my notes for a while and, to be honest, I didn't even remember Cec's when I decided on it. Because I seem to have some trouble in changing a character's name once everything is in place, I decided to keep it in this story.

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><p>«Why would you like to join us?», the stern looking man asked from behind the dark mahogany desk. He had an average build, well combed short grey hair, small dark brown eyes, and sat and walked with a very upright posture.<p>

«Well…», the applicant paused for a second, «some people tried to lure us to other clubs but anyone in Australia who deem themselves even as the most amateur golfer knows that the Elvsworth has not only the best green of the south coast but one of the best in the country.»

Wendell Yates looked at the man in front of him. He was in his late 30s or early 40s and had a composed and straightforward demeanor that would be appreciated in the club. After Thomas Siddall, Alan Branson, and Peter Logan had died, they definitely needed more of that.

«Archie and I were the best players of our club, back when we were in Scotland. I'm sure that having us would add tremendous prestige to the Elvsworth, would it not?»

Yates looked at the very smartly dressed woman in a burgundy suit with matching hat and gloves seated in front of him. She was smiling rather warmly, but he wasn't very convinced that having her there would sit well with the other ladies.

«We have many splendid players, Mrs. Jones.», he replied, looking sternly at her again.

She was attractive, he would give her that, but the fact that this Mr. Archibald Jones had chosen to marry her didn't do much for him, despite the initial good impression. He was sure she was too wild and modern.

«I don't doubt it.», she continued.

Phryne wanted to punch Yates in the face – had been wanting to ever since he had been introduced to her and had greeted her with «What a beautiful woman your wife is, Mr. Jones.», as if she weren't there and before saying a single word to her. The way he had phrased it was bad enough, but the very condescending tone used might have been even worse. Yet she loved investigating and getting the job done more so she would keep her anger inside until she had the chance to deflect his remarks more elegantly than what he deserved.

«Despite the tragic circumstances that reduced our presidential board,», he made a respectful pause, « the decisions regarding the admission of new members aren't taken by me exclusively, but we'll let you know as soon as we come up with a verdict.», he said, getting up from his chair, smiling broadly now, very pleased with his joke.

Phryne and Jack got up from their chairs as well and forced themselves to smile, albeit a great deal less enthusiastically.

«We are looking forward to learning it.», Jack said, « I'm sure you'll make the right decision.»

«You're quite something, Mr. Jones.», Yates said, pointing at him in a knowing manner.

«I think the same.», Phryne said, putting her hand on the inside curve of Jack's right elbow, punctuating her statement with an alluring smile.

It wasn't the first time it happened, but he was taken aback by her action nevertheless. It startled him, it was true, but he couldn't say he didn't like feeling her touch. Jack quite did it, in fact, even if he wasn't yet used to her being able to make that sort of gesture without it seeming odd. Odd to the outside, that was, now that to the eyes of the small world of the Elvsworth Club they were married. Well, Archibald and Fern were.

«What do you think, Mr. Jones?»

Both Mr. Jones and Jack didn't know what they were supposed to think about. Phryne's hand on his arm had made him trail off and he was mad at himself for it. How did she yield such power over him? If something as simple as that had had such an impact on him, what would be the result of a weekend (if not more) together? Jack took a deep breath as if to ready himself for those impending days.

«Come on. Don't be shy, darling. We are amongst friends here. Archie has the most fascinating collection of paperweights. You should come to our house and pick one yourself for the auction. We would love to help the Children's Hospital.», Phryne said, her gaze swinging from him to the other man.

«My wife knows me too well, I'm afraid, Mr. Yates. Of course, I would be very honoured to contribute alongside Elvsworth to such a worthy cause.»

«Wonderful. »

«We will not take more of your time. I'm sure you are very busy, especially now, that you had to take on more responsibility.», Phryne said.

«Unfortunately, it's true. Thomas, Alan, and Peter will be missed for many reasons.», Yates agreed, lowering his eyes.

Before leaving the office, they shook hands with him. Even counting the murder scenes she had been at already, Phryne had rarely been this glad she was wearing gloves.

«You've been awfully quiet since we left the club, Jack.», remarked Phryne, looking at him with a teasing smile.

« I've been busy with driving and with trying to find both an 'outstanding collection of paperweights' and a house for the Joneses in such short notice. I'm sorry if my conversational skills have not been quite up to par.»

Jack said those words as nonchalantly as he was able, but, in truth, it was difficult to not unsettle oneself when one's job was on the line and a killer was on the loose. Bringing Phryne along in an undercover operation would never be without risks, especially ones derived from her unpredictability, but he didn't expect them to begin so soon.

«Do you really think I'd say something like that without having a plan? I would like to believe that you know me better than that.», she said with false offense in her voice.

«You make me think a lot of things, Miss Fisher.», Jack replied, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

« I figured we might need a house sooner or later and took the liberty of renting a lovely one in Hawthorn. We can drop by now if you want. I have the keys right here.», Phryne announced proudly, raising her silk floral-print handbag in the air.

Jack tried to keep an indifferent expression but he couldn't avoid smiling.

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong> As mentioned above, I tried to have a factual background, so chose Hawthorn because I read some parts had quite an affluent make-up, in the beginning of the century at least. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and are curious to read more of this story. Let me know what you think of it, if you'd be so kind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

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><p>«Home sweet home, Archie.», Phryne said with a pleased look on her face when Jack stopped the motorcar in front of the iron gate of number 17 on Christopher Crescent.<p>

He leaned over the steering wheel so he could see the building from under the metal roof of the vehicle.

A Victorian redbrick house in Queen Anne federation-style with dark green wood trimmings edged in white and three bay-windows stood on top of a small grass-covered hill.

Elegant residences lined the street but none seemed as distinguished as the one they would pretend to live in. It was placed further back than the rest, which made it look very imposing, an impression deepened by the fact that to get to the front door, one had to climb the three slightly zigzagging sandstone staircases that lead there.

«The estate agent didn't have anything less exuberant, I presume.», he said. Jack knew better than to think that Miss Fisher would rent a presentable but discreet cottage in a quiet street, but he couldn't deny he was surprised nevertheless.

«Are you afraid it may seem too much for an employee of the Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics ?», Phryne asked, while getting out of the car.

«The official story didn't include any significant fortune, so yes.», Jack noted, exiting the vehicle as well.

«Archibald Jones has just come back from some sort of long study in Scotland sponsored by both the CBCS and the Royal Statistical Society, he is no ordinary statistician.

» Besides, It's _our_ story; if it puts your mind at ease, Fern can be fabulously wealthy.», Phryne continued, when he joined her by the front fence.

«Theirs would seem a very odd match.», Jack said, facing her.

«At first, they also thought so, but they couldn't help it, no matter how much they tried.»

«'_The course of true love never did run smooth_.'», he quoted.

«_'__Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments'_», she quoted back.

Both stopped talking for a moment. Their friendship had eventually allowed them to feel at ease with each other enough to exchange playful words but they had been walking such a fine line as of late, it wasn't that uncommon for them to hide behind silence when it seemed they might have gone too far into the questions that had complicated everything, as it was the case.

«Shall we come in?», said Phryne, picking one key in particular from the ring she was holding and opening the gate.

Jack nodded.

«It has a gazebo and everything.», he said once they were already inside the property.

He had noticed it as soon as he had gotten out of the motorcar but it was time to move the conversation forward; there was work to be done.

« Some statues as well and two fountains, this, », Phryne said pointing to the bronze one on the left, in the landing after the first staircase, « and another in the back yard. It also has a garage. If I didn't like my house so much, I might very well rent this one for myself.»

The garden had well-kept edges all around the fences, surrounding the stone banisters and some circling the two flowerbeds, one on each side of the stairs. Trees that seemed to be there since the house had been built stood tall in the corners of the property, big enough to shelter a significant part of the space from the sun but without making it seem cluttered to the eye. They had been placed carefully and he guessed they weren't compromising the view of the area, a benefit it had over the rest of the neighbourhood due to its elevated location. It was a very striking house, there was no doubt about it, but he still wasn't sure if its grandeur wouldn't betray them in the end.

«Aren't they going to feel threatened? The members of the Elvsworth don't seem very welcoming towards strangers, let alone those who may have more money or power.»

«This house is a perfect compromise between setting the Joneses as distinguished, interesting people and yet not enough for them to feel we are taking over the club; I've researched theirs. Aren't we supposed to make an impression that will leave them begging for us to join them? »

«You seem very certain.»

« Have I ever not?»

« I can think of a time or another, but I'm sure you would be able to refute all my arguments.», he acknowledged with a smile.

And, just like that, they were right back in the situation they had unwillingly found themselves into ten minutes ago, if that much, in a couple of sentences.

«Gregor would love the garden.», Jack said, perhaps too quickly. Both of them knew that they couldn't run away forever. They would have to put fear aside and talk frankly someday, but they dreaded this conversation yet to come, the consequences it might have in their relationship, which was so complex already. None of them dwelled on it much, in case thinking of it often would be like summoning that event.

«Gregor? Is he a friend?»

Phryne was truly curious. She had never met a friend of Jack, or even heard of one. She was familiar with his ex-wife, his ex-father-in-law, some of his colleagues but not with a friend. He must have one, apart from herself, that was. He was intelligent, kind, loyal, and witty; despite his shyness and reserved manner, someone might have been able to see and go behind that veil - a childhood pal, a colleague from Police academy, a fellow soldier he had met in his army years.

«Sort of.

» Yes, you could say so. Gregor is my dog.».

«You have a dog.», Phryne's voice had a tinge of surprise.

«Why do you seem so bewildered? Don't you think I could care for something?», although his words seemed a bit passive-aggressive, his tone gave away that he was not being that serious.

She didn't reply immediately; she knew he could.

«_Gregor_ means vigilant, watchful, alert.

» I think it suits you have a dog with such a name.»

« Curiously, that's why I thought it would be a good match.»

Despite considering that she knew him rather well, Phryne acknowledged that there were plenty of things in Jack's life she was unaware of, from simple ones like the fact that he had a dog and more significant ones such as what had lead him to become a policeman or if he had any siblings, for instance. The little details he shared now not only helped her to understand him even better and – Phryne found herself noticing – to care more deeply for him.

» Are you ready?»

«As ready as I can be, I reckon.».

Phryne opened the door and they walked into a large foyer painted in a cream colour, with the bottom half of the walls wainscoted with wood in the same colour and salmon, dark violet and grey bands around the edges of the vaulted ceiling. It had dark wood floors, left bare apart from the area covered by a silk Turkish rug with a hunting design under the large octagonal antique-looking table in the centre of the room, which had a calyx shaped vase in solid brown and a mixture of orange and opal on top of it. Pending above, there was a bronze and beaded chandelier that matched the wall lights next to the doors leading to the rest of the house.

« It still looks a bit too gloomy to be lived in, but Mr. Butler will love being in charge of it and bringing it up to shape.»

» We better get some flowers for there, to begin with.», she decided, pointing at the vase.

« Don't you think it may be risky?»

« Are you doubting Mr. Butler's skills, Jack?», Phryne asked with a falsely baffled expression.

« Quite the contrary, I've have been given all the evidence that Mr. Butler is very capable. But aren't you afraid someone may recognize him? We've gone through the all the information available about the members of Elvsworth but they seem to have so many hidden details we can't be sure we won't have to face someone who he may have worked for previously.»

«Don't worry. I've gone through those names with him and no one who has ever come to my house would be part of the club.»

Whether because they admired her or frowned upon her behaviour, a significant part of Melbourne's high society was aware of Phryne's «untamed» ways, the extravagant clothes, the fast driving style behind the wheel of the red Hispano-Suiza, the never-ending «lively» parties she attended. She didn't care much for what people had to say about it, but it was something that upset Aunt Prudence a great deal so she did her best to keep her niece out of the papers and the gossip rags. People knew stories of her, some even had briefly seen her, but for the majority of those same people it was as if Phryne were a folk legend no one knew exactly where or when had started.

And to be completely honest, Jack doubted more of the result of trying to pass Cec and Bert as convincing footmen, if it ever came to it, than of Mr. Butler's management abilities.

«Bedroom, bathroom, corridor to the kitchen, billiards room, formal dining room, drawing room, library.», Phryne said as she pointed to the various doors anti-clockwise.

» Master Bedroom.», she continued, pronouncing those two words very clearly.

Jack had been looking around the foyer, following her finger as she talked but because she was pointing over her shoulder now to the door in front of which she stood, his gaze was on her face. He held her stare, even after Phryne had asked:

«Would you care to see it first?»

«Perhaps it's best if we start from the drawing room. It's more likely we have to entertain Yates there.»

«One never knows.», she said, raising an eyebrow.

» But as you wish. We have time.»

Phryne passed by him, leaving a trail of Chanel nº 5 hovering in the air. He walked a few steps behind, swallowing dryly once her back was turned to him. After having thought she had died about two months and a half ago, this type of remarks still jolted his being more than what he would have liked.

Sunlight came through the biggest of the bay-windows they had seen from the outside as well as from the ones on the hollow tower-like shallow corner, both decorated with geometric-motifs stained glass and framed by white bell arches trimmed in green and yellow.

Jack's steps resonated on the dark wood polished floors as he moved towards the first window. He could see the roofs of the neighbourhood, the top of the trees of Grace Park, the sliver of the Yarra River glistening in the horizon. It was a very pleasant view indeed. He turned around and looked attentively to the aqua green walls and the details on the ceiling. It was adorned by a floral art nouveau frieze in red, green, and gold and complementary medallion which highlighted the elegant crystal chandelier.

Meanwhile, Phryne had sat on the Louis XVI sofa upholstered in beige damask which was placed in the centre, waiting for him to be over with inspecting the room. She was watching him move around, checking the statues on the windowpane, the oil paintings depicting landscapes adorning the walls, the impressive bronze clock on top of the marble mantelpiece. It was an odd thing to do, slightly disturbing even, she acknowledged, but she cherished watching him from afar like this. Despite their growing intimacy, he was still very guarded, and this provided her with a glimpse to his core. Besides, there was no shame in admitting that Jack was a handsome man whose shoulders filled a suit and a trench-coat very nicely. She didn't want to make him self-conscious, so she always tried to be very discreet, but she had lost her train of thought for an instant and didn't notice that he was looking at her reflection on the gilt-wood large mirror above the fireplace. Yet, when their eyes met, none of them averted the other's gaze.

«Were you spying on me, Miss Fisher?», he asked eventually, facing her now.

«Spying is too strong of a word, Jack.»

» I was merely keep track of your whereabouts.»

« It's a very interesting house indeed, but I'm afraid there isn't one single paperweight in sight. There are plenty of rooms I haven't been to yet, but it would be expected to have one in the drawing room at least, no?»

«Are you doubting me again, Jack?»

«I wouldn't dare to, not in these circumstances.», he said, lifting his left index finger and making a rotation motion with it.

«Billy Ashton?», Phryne asked, laying the groundwork to present her (great) idea.

«The gangster?»

«I'm sure there's a fair share of Billy Ashtons in Melbourne, but not many have had their house seized by the police in the last month, hopefully.»

«How do you even know that?»

This couldn't be more of a rhetorical question. His arrest had made the headlines two weeks ago but that was a detail that hadn't been disclosed to the public. And yet, regardless her privileged position with the South City Police, it would be perfectly expected if she had a network of informants as extensive as his.

«I know a lot of things.»

«What does Billy Ashton have to do with this, then?»

« A very interesting collection of paperweights he could lend to Archibald Jones. I doubt they'd be of much use in prison.»

«And you became acquainted with this fact…»

«Once again: I know lot of things.»

Jack dropped that part of the subject. Miss Fisher would always have plenty of tricks up the sleeves of her fashionable clothes.

«So, if I understand this correctly, you are suggesting we take the paperweights and not only bring them to this house but also put at least one of them up for auction? You are suggesting we sell current police property?»

It was a bold proposition. A great deal of hers were.

«Why not? They're sitting in an empty house at the moment, doing nothing more than gathering dust.

» Besides, it's very amusing having Ashton help the Police even if unknowingly», Phryne concluded with a mischievous grin on her lips.

Jack smiled at her. After many years of chase, catching him had been a great feat and a source of pride to the police but this small personal way of celebration could be entertaining indeed.

«Very well, but provided someone buys it?», he asked, trying to regain his sceptical posture.

» 'Excuse me, sir or madam, but it turns out you bought this piece but it isn't yours actually. Hand it over if you'd be so kind or I'll arrest you?'»

« How could anyone resist a request presented in such a manner ?», Phryne said, looking at him squarely.

«Hopefully they will be as easily swayed as you expect them to.»

« It may take some effort, but you can be very persuasive, Jack.»

» Shall we see the rest of the house? We still haven't been to the master bedroom», she proposed, after having gotten up from the sofa.

«I'm looking forward to it…»

A surprised expression was starting to form on Phryne's face.

» Guessing by the rest of the house, I'm sure it has wonderful furniture.», he said, smiling amused at her.

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><p><strong>Note: <strong>Christopher Crescent doesn't exist in reality but I've set in amongst those very near Grace Park.

The Australia Bureau of Statistics is in charge of these matters nowadays but this name dates back to 1979 . When it was formed in 1905, this department was named Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics (CBCS).

The Shakespeare quotes Jack and Phryne mention are from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and from the _Sonnet 116,_ respectively.

Billy Ashton doesn't exist as well.

I'd love to know what you think of this chapter. Thanks in advance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for having read the first two chapters of this story and thank you for taking the time to leave a comment/review. They're very appreciated.

The CBCS acronym mentioned in the second line stands for the Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics.

I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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><p>«I find it very odd that Yates hasn't said anything for these past days.», remarked Phryne, seated in one of the chairs in front of Jack's desk.<p>

« I thought it was strange too; that's why I checked twice a day with the CBCS, despite the orders they have to telephone immediately if anyone calls or comes looking for Jones, but so far, nothing.»

«Do you think they may have seen through our story?», Phryne was truly concerned their investigation had been compromised, but she couldn't deny she would be disappointed as well if it were the case and she couldn't annoy Yates and play Fern Jones alongside Jack.

«There's a chance, I guess, but it was carefully put together and we minded every detail we could think of.

» I also believe that if Yates or anyone from Elvsworth knew that this was a lie, Commissioner Harker would have walked through that door already. They would have either gone to the papers, threatened to file a lawsuit against the Police, or both.»

«Yates would absolutely love to storm in and expose us, that's for sure.», Phryne said, already picturing the spectacle he would come up with.

They both smiled, bonding over their common dislike of the interim president of the club.

«Perhaps we should have given him the Hawthorn address right away.

» No one has checked The Hotel Windsor either, right?», Phryne said.

«No one.», Jack confirmed.

»Maybe this excruciating waiting period is part of the admission process.», he continued.

«Only the strong survive.»

«Darwin would be proud.»

A knock on the door draw their attention.

« Come in, Collins.»

Hugh opened the door and walked into the office.

«Inspector.

» Miss Fisher.», he said, greeting her with a nod.

» A telephone call from the Commonwealth Bureau…»

« Don't be so formal, Hugh. What did they say?», Phryne interrupted.

Jack shot her an impatient look.

«Well, they telephoned to say that Mr. Wendell Yates called looking for you, sir, well, for Mr. Jones.»

«The game's afoot.», Phryne said, barely able to contain the enthusiasm.

«Did Mr. Yates leave a number?», Jack asked, less thrilled.

«Yes, sir.», Hugh confirmed, handing him a piece of paper.

«Thank you, Collins», he said, dismissing his subordinate.

«Do you think we should wait any longer?», Phryne remarked, after failing to see Jack pick up the telephone right away, even before Hugh was out, as she expected him to.

«It has occurred to me that they may be on to us already but instead of putting up a scandal, they decided it would be more productive to make us behave like fools.»

« Do you think that if that's the case we aren't good enough to revert the game back in our favour?», she asked defiantly.

«Should we gain some time to let Mr. Butler get the house ready?»

«Everything has been ready ever since we visited the other day.

» You can give him the number. Mr. Butler and Dot are already there.», Phryne informed him, pleased with herself, scribbling the phone number down on a pad he had on his desk. She didn't feel like having to control everything in her life but she would never improvise this sort of things in such a situation.

»They can't wait for it to start.»

It was true. Right from the beginning of their acquaintance with Phryne Fisher, both knew that she was not a regular employer and even an undercover operation wasn't exactly a new thing to either of them. They were looking forward to it although with different levels of enthusiasm, being Mr. Butler on the top of the scale and Dot in the half-point of it – she had sort of grown accustomed to this sort of agitation but still had a pang or two of guilt and regret for breaking some rules. Nevertheless, she couldn't deny that when she didn't think of them, it was fun and a chance to find out she was able to do much more than what she had given herself credit for.

Jack arranged the telephone in front of him and put the receiver on his left ear before dialing the number Collins had brought him. He did all this in a very fastidious manner, something Phryne was starting to believe he was doing simply to exasperate her.

She moved from her place in front of the desk to next to him, sat on the arm of his chair and put her ear next to the other end of the receiver, trying to catch something as well. First, Jack looked at her. They hadn't been this physically close in a while, a feeling heightened by the fact that she was in the small space between himself and the wall. He could see clearly the spots of darker grey in her eyes, the light-yellow circles around the pupils, hear her breathing, the rustling of her clothes when she had moved and when she put a lock of hair behind her ear so she could listen better. A bit flustered – having her so close wasn't that new but its frequency didn't diminish the effect she had on him –, he was mentally familiarising himself with having Archibald Jones as his name, hoping he wouldn't fail to respond to it in a timely manner or introduce himself as Detective Inspector Robinson. It was a difficult task though, when her hair kept brushing on the back of his hand, a stubborn strand that didn't stay where she meant it to.

He cleared his throat.

«Uh… yes… good afternoon. This is Archibald Jones for Mr. Wendell Yates, please.»

While he waited, Jack looked to his left, facing Phryne, but quickly decided against it. He needed to be fully concentrated; staring at the penholder instead would be a much wiser decision.

«Mr. Yates?»

Phryne leaned closer to Jack, giving way for another jarring accidental touch when she took off her earring so she could get even closer.

«Yes, we're finally settled. Fern and I have been meaning to call you but work has taken plenty of my time for these past days.»

Jack kept quiet for some moments, listening to what he heard from the other side. Phryne, on the other hand, was on the verge of giving up because she couldn't make out a single thing of what was being said and maybe it was the cue to try to find another way of being able to do so.

He laughed unexpectedly.

« What?», she mouthed.

Jack shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

«We have at last and that's why, as I said, we have been meaning to call you. Now that we are at home instead of at The Hotel Windsor, we would like to invite you to come to our house and choose the paperweight we talked about.

» Of course we hadn't forgotten.»

As Jack was talking, it was dawning on him that that undercover operation was a real assignment they had taken on, no longer an outrageous plan that Harker had approved of for reasons he didn't exactly know. It had been an intriguing attitude considering South City Police's slightly unofficial stance of keeping away from scandal until the memory of Sanderson's conduct had blown over and the high profile of some of the Elvsworth's members.

«When? Let me check with Fern, please. Just a moment.»

It was Phryne's turn to shake her head. Yates hated her and would not have much respect for Archie Jones if he kept running things by his wife.

She picked up the pad where she had written the number and wrote underneath it

DINNER TOMORROW. COCKTAIL BEFORE. BRING WIFE IF WANTED.

« Would dinner tomorrow be suitable for you? And this invitation is extended to your wife, obviously. We would be very glad to welcome you both for cocktails before.»

Jack laughed again. Phryne made an encouraging expression. Given that they were on the telephone, Yates couldn't see his face, but if anyone unfamiliar with the whole situation took a look into that office now, they would easily think he was talking to a much esteemed friend. His theatre background would definitely be helpful, even if it hadn't been that brilliant.

« Would 8 o'clock be suitable for you?»

He looked at her and nodded. The hour had been settled.

«Very well, then.

» If needed you can reach us on 37324.

» The address? Of course. Don't mind me and forgive me, Mr. Yates. As I've mentioned before, my time has been very busy as of late. 17 Christopher Crescent in Hawthorn.»

» You live near Hawthorn too? What a curious coincidence. A sign, perhaps?»

Phryne winked at Jack and smiled at him, victorious.

« Would you mind repeating what you've just said? I'm sorry, someone knocked on the door.»

She didn't do it all the time on purpose, but she couldn't deny she liked to see him disconcerted like that. Phryne Fisher wasn't oblivious to the effect she could have at all, but even less to of the effect she had on Jack. It could be seen as somewhat mean, sometimes, but she liked to rattle him. Not too much, just enough to shake him up from now and then.

«You will not be imposing at all. As I said, we are looking forward to having you at our house and honoured that you are our first guests.»

There weren't many things Jack hated as much as adulating people, especially people he didn't like, as it was the case, so Phryne knew that those words were demanding some effort from him but he was conducting the conversation flawlessly.

«Thank you, thank you. You're too kind. We'll meet tomorrow then. A nice afternoon to you too, Mr. Yates. Thank you.»

Jack put the receiver on the hook of the telephone and looked at his watch.

« I believe we have 27 hours and 18 minutes to get everything ready. It could always be worse. »

«That's the spirit.», said Phryne, putting her earring on again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **It was pointed out that the way some parts of dialogue are presented may be confusing - there's a line change but it doesn't make much sense if we assume another character is talking.

I chose this form because I've seen it in some books in English and thought it would be aacceptable and that it would also be easier to introduce brief thoughts or descriptions in the middle of a particular line, not to mention avoiding having 'he said'/'she said' after every sentence. Yet, just to be sure, please check the way the quote marks are facing if you have any doubt:

**«**xxxx.**»** (new line of dialogue, spoken by a different character.)

**«** yyyyyy. (first part of the dialogue.)

wwwwwwwwww. (Brief thought/description)

**»** yyyyyyyy.**»** (completion of the dialogue).

**«**xxxx**»** (new line of dialogue, spoken by the first character again or by a third character that intervenes meanwhile.)

In case you still find it troubling, let me know and I'll try to present it in a different way.

As said above, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm sorry for not having published it before but it wasn't possible at all to do so. Please comment/review, if you'd be so kind. Your feedback is appreciated. Have a nice weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

In spite of the Commissioner Harker's approval and intervention, a lot of red tape had still been needed in order to have 8 wooden crates containing about 10 paperweights each, made of glass, bronze, marble, crystal, pate de verre, agate or brass, delivered to the house late in that afternoon.

Billy Ashton's was indeed a very extensive collection, but Phryne had personally handpicked each one of those which were now on the shelves of various rooms of the house on Christopher Crescent, taking in mind what would look good there but what would also appeal to Fern and Archie's taste, life, and experiences.

After Phryne herself, Mr. Butler, Dot, Cec, Bert, and Jack had unpacked, dusted, and put them in place, she had said:

«It still seems that no one lives here.

» I mean, the curtains are drawn back, there's fruit In the kitchen, drinks in the bar-cart and a newspaper on the table of the hall but it lacks something.»

«What do you suggest?», Jack had asked, a bit fearful of her answer, something that he kept to himself. One could never predict what Miss Fisher would come up with.

« You and I will go to our own real houses and bring things that remind us of home, following pretty much the same criteria I took for Ashton's paperweights. Anything against?», she had said.

«No, nothing.»

It hadn't been a difficult request, especially given that he was expecting something much more outrageous.

« What did you bring?», Phryne was trying to make sense of the things she could see in the card box Jack had put on the dining table, about two hours later after she had presented her idea.

«Ladies first?»

Despite his general polite behaviour, he wasn't exactly following some kind of chivalry rule; in fact, he was trying to delay what couldn't be delayed. Revealing the contents of the box would be exposing himself more than what he liked to do, even if Phryne made him want to not mind being vulnerable in front of her. He could have always chosen things that didn't mean that much to him, but that would feel like lying and, apart from some very singular circumstances, he didn't like to lie, particularly to her.

« House is already sort of here with Dot, Mr. Butler, Cec, and Bert but I also brought my vanity table things, Janey's hair ribbon, my flying helmet, some pictures I took in my trips, including of Scotland, some drawings Aunt Prudence gave me, one of Jane's bracelets.

» They're already in place. You took a lot of time. »

It was true. Hers had seemed a relatively simple question until he had found himself wondering what to bring.

Jack took a deep breath and described what he was putting on the table, but not elaborating much.

«Some photographs, some sporting events medals and cups, a small hammer that belonged to my father, one of my mother's sheets of music. Not much, too bad I couldn't bring Gregor.»

Phryne picked up the photographs. There were four of them. In the first, eighteen or nineteen-year-old Jack was next to a man older than him, in front of what seemed the door of St. Ignatius church, the Gothic Revival arch of the entrance behind them.

She was feeling conflicted: despite a particular hunch about his identity, she obviously wanted to know who the man in the picture was but she didn't exactly feel comfortable enough to directly ask, hoping he would feel at ease enough to share that by himself. He had brought those pictures after all.

« That's Matthew, my older brother. It was taken on his wedding day.»

She raised her eyes from the photographs in her hands to meet his.

« He lives in Perth, is a fireman and has three children with Ruby, my sister-in-law.

» We check up on each other from time to time but haven't seen each other in a while…He's ten years older than me and we've never been very close. I mean… he's my brother, heaven help anyone who hurts him but maybe that paired with the fact that he has been living away for long is why I never mentioned him, I guess.»

«You look alike.», Phryne said at last. It was something that went without needing to be spelt out to anyone who looked at the picture, but she was still a bit taken aback by his revelation. Having a sibling wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but the same couldn't be said about hearing him willing to talk about his family and she moved on to the next photograph, taking his words as a good sign.

» Your family, I reckon?», she said, turning it to Jack. That image featured four people posing for the photographer with quiet smiles on their faces and who looked very at ease with each other: it seemed to have been taken in that same wedding day, everyone appeared to be wearing their best clothes – Jack, Matthew and their parents, probably.

« Yes. My brother, me, my father, Patrick, and my mother, Mary.»

The shadow that fell over Jack's eyes told her a bit of the rest of the story.

«I'm sorry.»

Jack nodded.

» Don't tell me that you have already been to Scotland but were concealing it from me?» Phryne continued after a pause, with a playful twist in her voice, holding now a postcard of the University of Glasgow, its Gothic Revival building overlooking the River Kelvin, the tower standing out from the rest of the landscape.

«I haven't, even if I'd like to someday. It was sent to me by Charles Dunn, Charlie Dunn, a friend I made in the army. He is Scottish. Our regiments served together in the Western Front. We haven't seen each other ever since but we've kept in touch. »

Phryne smiled. Of course he had to have a friend. This one lived on the other side of the world and they hadn't seen each other in more than a decade but he had a friend.

« Perhaps you should have written to him to ask some more details about Scotland, how the weather has been and the latest news?»

« I have sent him both a telegram and a letter in fact, but I'm still waiting for his answer.»

» He's on the next picture.», Jack said, his openness surprising her once again.

Phryne turned to it. The two men were seated on wooden crates around a small camp table in a certainly very welcome break. It appeared they had paused their game in order to pose to the photographer, holding the cards against their knees, keeping their hands from prying eyes. She was curious about Dunn but nevertheless her eyes were drawn to the man she already knew, on the left.

The first thing she noticed about Jack was how young he looked. He was probably about 25 years old or so, despite the dark shadows around his eyes, which revealed the tiredness that laid behind his shy smile. He also seemed to be holding something back, perhaps what was needed for him to be there without completely losing his mind, even if he wasn't in combat in that precise moment.

Jack had a khaki jacket buttoned up to his neck with a general service badge, 'rising sun' as people called it, despite it being supposed to depict the King's crown, on each side of the turned lapels, but it was possible to see the top outline of his shirt's neckband. The jacket had four pockets - two in front of the chest and two in front of the abdomen – and was girded to the body by a thick leather belt. The grainy look of the picture and the way he was seated didn't allow her to make out the colour of the patches sewed to the upper arm of the garment so she couldn't even guess the unit he had served with but she believed she could distinguish the downward two-bar chevron that indicated a corporal.

Breeches in a similar beige to that one of the jacket went all the way a bit below his knees, its hems hidden inside the brown leather boots, worn with spiral strap leggings that she knew covered the laces. Despite the muddy floor on which they were standing, Jack's were clean apart from the welt. He had the felt slouch hat on, the left side of its brim turned up and seemingly held in place by another rising sun badge.

Because of his position and the bulk the pockets of his coat she couldn't get much information about the height and build of the man next to him. He seemed a bit older than Jack, had a thin and long face, slightly googled-eyes of a colour the black-and-white photo didn't let her discern and narrow lips - the kind of face that is bestowed upon one too soon before they can fully own their interesting features.

Dunn's outfit was very similar both in cut and in style, apart from the insignia on his jacket and his headdress. His seemed to have the Royal Army Medical Corps badge on the collar - she remembered it being a the serpent entwined-rod of Asclepius enclosed with a laurel wreath with a crown above it, and the motto _Arduis Fidelis, "Faithful in Adversity," _below - and his sleeves were finished with the two star rank badges on the outer side of each of them that signaled him as a lieutenant_. _Despite being Scottish and attached to a Scottish unit, he didn't wear a tartan like it happened to many of the regiments coming from his country or affiliated with it. His role as part of the RAMC didn't allow him to, but he wore a Glengarry bonnet instead of a peaked cap over his dark hair.

Charlie's tunic sleeves had a round red cross badge, very similar to the one Phryne had worn around hers back then when she had driven ambulances in France. She didn't know exactly where Jack served – he had never mentioned it and she would never ask him unless it ended up coming in conversation; it was something painful to remember for both of them – and it crossed her mind that maybe they had been stationed in the same place or at least nearby. Considering their jobs, perhaps Phryne and Charlie's paths had even intersected briefly along the way, even if she didn't recall him. But then, there had been so many people, so many faces she was reminded of from time to time but that she had to otherwise lock in a corner of her mind so she could live the best she could, unwilling to waste it when she had been lucky enough to survive when so many hadn't.

« Those decks of cards saved my life once.», Jack said, after swallowing dryly, as if to ready himself to peel away another of the layers he had wrapped his memories of the war in, and putting his hands on the table, steadying himself.

Talking about these things was something he usually didn't feel very keen on doing. It had been so difficult to make the possible peace with everything he had lived in those years and despite always being very grateful for having been able to not only come home, but also to return healthy, some mental trauma notwithstanding, coping led him to think sometimes if this attempt to move on was not a disrespect for those who had perished.

Some people felt that sharing their experience helped them process their pain, some didn't want to hear a single word on it again, their private demons were remembrance enough. Jack wasn't exactly sure of Phryne's stand on it and didn't want to burden her but there was something in her demeanor and the way she was looking at him that made him feel a bit more willing to reveal what had happened on the dawn of 25 April 1918 in Villers-Bretonneux.

On her side, Phryne thought it was best to let him do what he wanted to do. Go on if he wanted or keep quiet if he realised that he wasn't ready to talk about that day yet. She wanted to say something, to reach across the table a put her hand on his, but, despite it being rare, she didn't exactly know what to do - perhaps it might feel like she was corralling him.

» Everything took place suddenly. I don't remember much how it happened.», he said, his gaze shifting from her eyes to the polished wood of the table top.

»I t was all very confusing; we were under heavy German fire. There were people shouting and shots coming from more directions we could keep track of. I was with Parsons and Bamford in charge of a machine-gun, trying to cover other men attempting to take more than centimeters of enemy territory with grenades. We were hidden in a somewhat shallow trench about a meter and a half ahead of a regular trench but I'm hit by something and fall on my back, a burning sensation on my left side. »

Jack paused for a moment, needing to take a deep breath. He had talked more quickly than what he was expecting, especially considering the mention of those brothers in arms, who had both died in the war.

» I looked to where the pain came from and I saw a tear in my uniform that went from the upper pocket, alongside my flank and to my back. », he said, tracing the path of the bullet, about four fingers below his armpit, as he talked.

«I didn't see blood immediately but the pain was so intense that in that moment I was sure I had been shot. It was complete chaos but I was so exhausted and shaken I felt I could lay on that floor forever. Parsons and Bamford kept shooting even when they were asking if I was fine and yelling for the medic. », he continued, looking at the table.

He was on the verge of tears now. More than saying their names again, it was the memory of their genuine worry that hit him.

«It's alright, Jack.», Phryne said now, finally reaching to him across the table, as she had thought of before.

« I guess it were their words that brought me around. That and Parsons pushing me inside the trench as gently as he could considering that we kept being under fire. The pain was still strong but not as much as it had. My back seemed to hurt harder. But I couldn't lose more time. I put my hand to the tear and moved alongside it slowly. I felt blood now and it hurt when my fingertips touched it. Thankfully it seemed to be a grazing wound, but the bullet or whatever had hit me had pierced through the three layers of clothes and scrapped off a part of my skin as well, deep enough to leave scars that l still have to this day.»

» The medic arrived meanwhile. I could move and was a mentally alert as anyone in a situation like that could be, so I told him to put some anti-tetanus serum on it and dress it.», Jack continued. He felt he couldn't leave the story halfway now.

«He did?» , she asked calmly. Many times the adrenaline, the patriotism, and the sense of duty clouded their judgment and it was up to the medical staff to correctly assess their state, even taking into consideration the progress of battle and if they could be spared in that moment or had to continue as long as they could pull a trigger and take some steps.

«Yes. Things were difficult. We were barely holding our position now. I yelled at him for wanting me to take off my jacket before getting on with it, but he was being smarter than me – a pristine white bandage around my body would make me an even clearer target. »

«The cards diverted the bullet.», Phryne finished.

«Probably they wouldn't if it were coming straight at me, but I guess the bullet was flying in some strange angle and that slight obstacle was enough to change its course.»

«Otherwise it might have hit you in the lung… or in the heart.», just the thought was enough to make Phryne recoil.

» I'm very thankful for those decks.», she said, with her eyes getting watery too now.

Silence filled the room. Jack was a bit more comfortable but not as much as to prod him to keep picking his brain. He needed to sit down actually to start. He pulled the chair in front of him and did so.

«Do you want me to go?»

There was no need to subterfuges or false errands to run.

«No. You can stay. I would prefer if you did so, in fact.», Jack replied, looking at her.

«Take your time.», Phryne said, addressing him a reassuring smile and sitting down too.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I'm sorry this update took a little while to be posted. I hope you think it's worth it. Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

Military History is very interesting but it can also be very complex, especially if one is confronted with a lot of data but doesn't exactly know where to start, as it happened to me. I tried to be as accurate and logical as possible, but I acknowledge that some parts of what's described may have been a bit streamlined in order to fit more easily into the story, the same going for Jack's injury. I hope this didn't translate into glaring mistakes. If that's the case, as well as due to some bumps in research, please forgive me.

I know this chapter ended up a bit darker than what the general tone of the story has been so far, but as I've said in «Angry, Half in Love, and Tremendously Sorry», I'm very curious about Jack's life outside the Police station and sometimes I find myself coming up with these headcanons without even knowing what started them.

It seems that there's a lot of Gothic Revival buildings in Jack's (both «real» and «fictional») life, I guess.

As usual, I hope you enjoy this instalment and your comments/reviews/messages are highly appreciated, if you'd be so kind to send them.


	5. Chapter 5

«Do you think everything looks more homely now, Miss Fisher?», Jack asked, when they were back in the living room after dinner, still enjoying a digestif now that everybody who wouldn't stay there had gone home, including Aunt Prudence. She didn't approve of such a ruse even if to catch a murderer, but had accepted her niece's invitation nevertheless. She could keep an eye on things that way, at least, Mrs. Stanley had declared, especially considering the pretend marriage it also entailed.

« Much better. Bright, welcoming, Mr. Butler and Dot's cooking skills in no way affected by this unfamiliar stove, Aunt P coming for dinner, our nightcaps.», Phryne said, raising her glass.

_You standing by the fireplace, slightly leaning on it, rarely looking as at ease as in these moments, _she thought.

»Yates will be sold.»

Jack smiled back to her. Their late night drinks had become a very pleasant part of his days. After they had stopped meeting for a while in the wake of the false report that Phryne had died and during the time he needed to deal with the aftermath, he had missed them very much. He had enjoyed the quiet nights at home before they had started, reading or listening to the radio with Gregor lying at his feet, but without their rendezvous, they seemed very incomplete, even if he appreciated doing those same things once he came home from meeting her.

«I'm only missing Jane. I'm sure she would love the house and will be very disappointed she didn't get to play Fern and Archie's daughter.»

Contrarily to other times, she didn't say this to shake him. Phryne truly thought the girl would like to be part of it. She was so smart, had such spirit and her observational skills could be much appreciated.

«Would you like to have children some day, Miss Fisher? Other than Jane, that is?»

He paused for a small moment.

» I'm sorry. I'm in no place to ask. It's a personal choice.»

«It's alright, Jack.», she said, «unlike others, this answer is not a secret.»

» I don't see myself as a traditional mother in the most basic, biological sense of the word even if I don't tend to close doors for the future, as you well know by now. Perhaps this is a bit strange, but I think I'm a better parent, if you want to say so, to Jane for coming into her life when I did. To answer your question: I think I could take another young person in, if the circumstances presented themselves.».

Phryne took a sip.

«You?»

It was Jack's turn to drink a bit of the port in his glass.

«I am not exactly sure. I get along with children well enough, I guess, but the prospect of having my own seems too daunting sometimes.»

«That's why you and Rosie never had any?»

«Also, I think. We talked about it at some time, but then the war came and after it things weren't easy and our marriage ended meanwhile, if not officially yet. It may sound cruel but I'm glad we didn't have children to drag into all that.»

«There's nothing to be ashamed of. Too many children end up as pawns when things don't go well between their parents.»

«I must head home, I'm afraid, Miss Fisher.», Jack said, after a side-glance to the clock on the mantelpiece.

»It's getting late and tomorrow will be a very long day, I'm sure.»

» When do you want me back here?»

« Around 2 o'clock in the afternoon, it's good, I think. We have five hours to get the last details ready.»

» Don't forget to bring your dinner jacket. Cocktail time and having to look our best demand it.»

«I'll be here at 2 and in the proper attire.», Jack promised, shifting the his weight from one foot to the other.

« Goodnight, Miss Fisher.»

«Goodnight, Jack. Have a good night sleep.»

He thought she looked particularly lovely that evening, clad in a blue grey silk gown that highlighted her flawless complexion and fitted her perfectly.

She had reached out her hand.

« I'll try.», he said, taking it briefly in his; no matter how nice the touch of her skin felt, lingering could not do them any good.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I'm sorry for not having posted this update sooner but, once again, it wasn't possible.

I know this is short and doesn't develop the story much further but I felt that after the last chapter the story could use a little pause. I hope you enjoy this nevertheless.

I'd also like to take this chance to thank all the guests that have commented so far - the non-guests have been thanked already by message. And thank you for «the follows» and for considering my story one of your favourites, those who did so, as well. It really means a lot to me and I hope you don't feel disappointed as this goes.

As usual, reviews/comments will be highly appreciated and I'm very grateful for holding your attention and entertaining you enough to warrant them. I love hearing from you.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack straightened his bowtie once again in front of the mirror in Miss Fisher's hall – he kept getting the feeling it was always crooked for some reason – and pondered on her influence over him.

Calling the station to ask Collins to tell him to come to St. Kilda at once and to bring his dinner jacket instead of talking to him directly had been a smart move, as surely she probably had anticipated – not much room left for further questions.

It was far from the 2 o'clock schedule they had set the night before and yet his curiosity had been shaken enough for him to be waiting for her to come from upstairs. After he had received her message, he had called, trying to get some more details but it was Dot who had picked up the phone and had said that Miss Fisher preferred to be the one to share them with him, something she mentioned again when she had opened the door, taken his hat and overcoat and disappeared outside into the garden.

Light steps on the first floor drew his attention and Jack turned to his right, confident he would have his questions answered at last.

Yet when she turned the corner onto the first landing and began walking down the last flight of stairs afterwards, his mind went blank and his breath got caught in his throat.

Phryne was wearing a pearl sleeveless silk velvet dress with a scoop neck and a sort of cape in the same fabric trailing behind her. The thick straps were slightly gathered at the shoulders by two diamond and pearl geometric brooches matching both the embellishment in front of the dress and the small one that seemed to hold the tie at the side, which fell with a cascading effect. Apart from it, the dress had a rather shapeless cut, but five strings of pearls set across the abdomen and united in the middle by the central ornamental pin gave it the illusion of a dropped-waist. The hem ended a good bit below her knees but was still short enough to reveal pearl stockings and silk t-strapped shoes in the same colour.

She looked absolutely arresting as usual, but these parts of her outfit weren't what threw him off-balance.

Her black bob was covered by a silk tulle veil that was stretched across her forehead and held in place by the headpiece he remembered seeing her wear at some point of the case at the Green Mill club: a line of round crystals with two hollow half-moons made of them as well dangling from it and two round-shaped pendants in the middle. The veil not only to hit the floor but also went over the dress-cape and ran longer for a bit more, flowing down the steps as she made her way towards the ground floor.

Jack took a deep breath.

«What do you think?», she said, coming down the remaining steps.

Seeing him waiting for her at the bottom of them carried a weight she hadn't expected. In spite of her high regard for her independence, she didn't exactly rule out marriage out of her future completely – as she didn't with anything - , but until Jack she had not met any man who led her to even entertain the thought very remotely.

«I'm at a loss for words, Miss Fisher.»

It was true for both how striking she looked and the possible reasons why she had put on a wedding dress. Jack believed he would probably never see her wearing such a traditional garment. Perhaps one day… he found himself thinking, chastising himself almost immediately for doing so.

«Who would have thought I already owned a dress that could pass for a wedding gown.», she continued, right in front of him now, with a pleased grin on her face.

» Dot made the veil – It was rather an unremarkable piece of cloth when we got it from the House of Fleuri this morning.»

Jack was still having trouble in finding what to say. He couldn't take his eyes off her, especially now that she was so close.

«Was this very particular fashion achievement that required my immediate presence?», he said, after clearing his throat with a faint cough.

«Last night, after you were gone, it dawned on me that there wasn't a single picture of Fern and Archie together in that house, not even a wedding portrait and it seemed too much of a gap.», she explained at last.

» We could say it was still packed, but I think it would too contrived. Don't you?»

«And staging one doesn't?»

« We have to cover all our bases.»

«You couldn't have told me this on the telephone?»

« I didn't want you to get cold feet.», she said in an alluring tone, smiling at him.

«I don't think I could.», Jack replied, more earnestly than what he would have liked to let out, looking into her eyes.

» Uh…good thing you noticed it on time.», he said, trying to create some distance between himself and those previous words.

» Will it be ready for tonight?»

«Yes, if we take it right away and then go to the Police photography laboratory very soon after.»

» I may have mentioned to Commisioner Harker we might need some images for this case. He granted me full access.», she explained in light of the puzzled look on Jack's face.

» It will be very fast: we don't need any technician to help. I can do it myself.»

» Once they are taken, of course.»

Miss Fisher was a woman of many talents indeed, he was reminded of once again, not surprised in the least.

«We better get going then.», Jack said, looking at her with an amused expression across his face.

«Will you marry me?», she said, with a broad smile on her face.

Phryne had lifted her right hand at her shoulder-level and opened it. He had been so absorbed by their conversation and the vision of Miss Fisher in a wedding dress, he hadn't noticed her closed fist. On its palm laid two rings: piece of jewelry that could easily be an engagement present and a plain silvery band. The habit made no need for one for the groom.

«What do you think?», Jack replied. Perhaps it would have been a bit more in tone with their playful banter to say «What do you think Archie should do?». As of late, he had noticed that he had started to shield his feelings behind that fictional character but this time his had spoken louder than that, because, he admitted to himself, if she were the bride, there wasn't any other answer possible but 'yes'.

He was aware that things would never be that clear and linear for them though. They were both committed, intelligent, curious people and it would be a hypocrisy to deny that they did indeed care for each other beyond the realms of simple friendship at this point, but regardless of the magnetism that emanated from them and which ended up drawing closer their opposite traits, they would need much more than it to start and, better still, to continue a normal relationship between them – 'normal' being a very loosely used word, because having Phryne in his life like that could never be so; she was truly extraordinary and he liked how she seemed to awaken in him parts of his personality he thought he had lost forever in the war, how she challenged him. Despite the way his marriage with Rosie had ended they had had their very happy moments together and he hadn't exactly forsaken the concept nor even that he might ever feel that way in one again. He wasn't very sure Phryne would ever want to get married _– _to him or_ to any other man_, he thought with a sudden tinge of pain and jealously in his heart – in the official sense of the word and of the proceedings but he could definitely picture them living together nevertheless, even if such arrangement would be a scandalous one_. _He loved her_, _and even if he liked things done the proper fashion, provided she felt the same away about him, it was compromise enough.

«Jack, are you alright?»

Phryne's words woke him from that daze, accompanied by the touch her left hand on his arm which wasn't making things easier at all. He must stop letting Archie and Fern's domesticity to spill into his own life, especially because, apart from their brief initial conversations with Yates and the interview at Elvsworth, they hadn't exactly had to play house so far and there was a crime to solve, the reason why this charade had begun in the first place. The best (or worst, it was difficult to predict at this stage) was yet to come.

«I am, thank you.», he replied finding worry in the way she was looking at him now, putting on a – he hoped – reassuring and polite smile.

« Your eyes seemed to glaze over for a minute and you got a bit pale.», her tone of voice was still serious.

«I felt light-headed for an instant, that's all.» Apparently, he also hid behind double-meaning words now.

» I hope I'm not getting flashbacks of the reviews of my performance in Pirates of Penzance next. It could definitely impair my ability to pretend I'm Archibald Jones in a satisfying way.», Jack continued, drenching his words in a tongue-in-cheek arrogance in order to move the conversation along .

« Don't tell me you are getting stage fright?», Phryne said, in a lively manner again, arranging the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, now that he started to seem more like himself. It wasn't something she had done to tease him or to throw him off, it had been such an instinctive gesture, she didn't ponder on it until she had tighten her fingers again so the rings she was holding wouldn't fall on the floor and it was too late to hold back before it would seem strange.

«Just a dash, I think. But don't theatre actors say that very few things can match the thrill that comes from acting in front of the audience? I may not be in charge of some details», Jack said, pointing at her hand, which she still kept closed, « but I'm doing my best in other regards.»

« I hope the sight of these hasn't increased it. You promised you wouldn't get cold feet, remember?», she retorted, putting the rings in full view again and that mischievous grin on her face – oh, that mischievous grin.

«You would need to do something more ghastly for that.

» Besides, you already know I'm not afraid of commitment, Miss Fisher. », he said in a flirtatious tone, throwing caution in the wind for some seconds – they were faking a wedding portrait probably no one would notice if it wasn't in their pretend house for an undercover police operation; everything in that endeavour was bound to be somewhat surreal.

» May I?», Jack asked, drawing his eyes towards the rings and then back to Phryne.

«You may.», she replied, waiting to see what he would do next.

«Do you keep wedding rings laying about, Miss Fisher?», he asked again.

Jack had taken to asking a lot of questions lately, he noticed. But then, it was safer to present them than to have to give answers at this point.

« I bought this one at an antiques street market some time ago, just in case. We never know where detective work will lead us.»

He picked up the plain band, his fingers briefly brushing her hand, something that lead them both to try to conceal the sudden rush of heat that had enveloped them.

Phryne stretched out her left hand out like it was supposed for the bride to do. Jack took it in his and slid the ring alongside her finger until the silvery hoop was in place, his fingertips gliding on her skin again.

«I, Archie take you, thee …Fern.», Jack said, looking at her.

Fern, Phryne, Fern. Both names similar enough to stand side by side in his brain. Similar enough for him to have to take a moment and check before in order to say the correct one sometimes, lest a secret came out, as it had almost just happened.

«Fern takes you too, Archie.», she said with a smile, her hand still in his.

Archie. The running joke that had begun during his brief stint as a radio broadcaster for another undercover operation. At first, she had used the nickname to play a bit further with his call for help in the investigation, but over time it had turned from possibly annoying to a funny detail both had fully embraced, another interesting staple in the story of their complex relationship.

When it became clear that the official overt channels wouldn't be enough to investigate the three deaths in Elvsworth's presidential board any further, Commissioner Harker had assigned that case to Jack. His previous operation of the sort had been very successful and he considered him an outstanding policeman.

Someone posing as a single man would never be convincing enough to join that club unless his parents were already part of it, no matter how great the performance and how grand and well-crafted said man's story was. The Elvsworth was an elite club whose members defended a particular way of life and having a spouse was definitely the first step to it. Who would they enroll as his wife then? Even if none of the eight women with the Victoria Police were attached to that station, it could be arranged, but it turned out that despite his apparent boldness, there was a limit to the amount of backlash Harker was willing to tolerate – this wasn't a case concerning women or children's welfare and how could the Police maintain its reputation if, even in the course of their jobs, it was getting single women to pretend they were married? No, that he couldn't agree on.

«What about Miss Fisher then, Sir?», Jack had asked in one of the many meetings that took place in the Commissioner's office regarding that operation.

» She's an external consultant, not to mention how she has been of very helpful assistance in several cases.»

Jack was sure that in light of how she intervened in Police matters sometimes, Harker might not see things exactly through that perspective, but he was confident that the pile of solved cases since she had come to Melbourne would tip the scale their side.

«Miss Fisher?», he had said, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the top of his desk. Unlike Sanderson, who made sure to rely on the frequent mention of his rank to appear imposing, William Harker commanded a room as soon as he walked into a room and this wasn't only due to his height. As their conversation went by, he stood behind the desk, jacketless, with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows. Even if his job had a lot of politics and some public relations involved, this was a man of action, a policeman at heart who still took cases to investigate in spite of his high post.

«It could work, I guess», Harker continued. He was in his late 50s and his brown hair had started to lighten at the temples for some time but he still had young-ish features, which were displaying an approving expression in that moment.

» Our "collaboration"» – his deep voice gave a particular intonation to the word – «with Miss Fisher has had a few setbacks but, as you well point out, she has also helped to close at least a handful of cases.

» I'll agree to this but it this operation fails and/or Miss Fisher hinders more than what she helps, this is on me because I'm the commissioner, but this is also on you, Detective Inspector Robinson.»

«We will not let you down, sir. Thank you for the vote of confidence.»

When Jack asked her if Phryne wanted to be part of the operation, every aspect of the story had been previously discussed and determined within Harker's office walls, including the name he would take. He had been given a list of possible names and surnames but he hadn't needed to take a look at it - if she were to be his partner in all that, for him there hadn't been but one.

«What should I start calling you?», Phryne had asked.

«Archibald Jones. Archie, for short if you wish. I thought it would be easy to remember.»

An acknowledging smile shone from her face.

«Then my name will be Fern. It will be very easy to remember for you too, but this time it will involve less glittery leotards, I'm afraid.», she decided on the spot, bringing forward her own particular experience at being undercover.

Her words sent him to the day where she had come into his office and opened her trench-coat to reveal such particular outfit.

«And what about this?», she said, making him snap out of that memory. She had raised her hand again, the ring that would pass as Fern's engagement gift gleaming on her palm.

He picked up the ring, his fingers briefly brushing her hand, something that lead both to try to conceal the sudden rush of heat that had enveloped them.

As in true Miss Fisher's fashion, it was an elegant piece of jewelry: made in platinum, with an oval cabochon-cut 2.00-carat somewhat odd stone between step-down diamond shoulders – first with three small ones, than two, and finally one.

«Star sapphire», Jack said, regarding the grey stone, even if the pattern that gave it its name wasn't as marked as in some he had read about before – just faint traces on the upper right part of it.

» It matches your eyes perfectly, Miss Fisher.»

It was almost eerie how close the two colours were. That stormy, dignified grey that yet wasn't boring, conformed or modest as it was originally perceived of such a tone.

«That was the reason why I chose it in Paris three years ago.

» For now, I thought it could be a nice touch for an engagement ring.», she continued.

«Archie is a man of good taste, I guess.», he noted, looking at it and putting the ring around her finger until it was above the other, simpler band, their hearts beating faster and their breathing quickening with every faint, unavoidable touch bound to happen.

«And he wanted to work in advance as well. Did you know that the sapphire is the traditional gift for the 45th anniversary?», she revealed, hopefully appearing less ruffled.

«'Better safe than sorry', isn't that what people say?», replied Jack.

The Police might have designed their story but those little details that might make it more believable were unexpectedly coming from them as time went by: shaping the memory of a trip to Rome they hadn't taken, the way their house "in Scotland" had a door the creaked with a with a sound very similar to the song of a blackbird. Ending up staging wedding photos was unforeseen enough but something with the magnitude of the last few minutes was even more startling. All those concealed words and double-meanings were looming with a great deal of strength over their own lives, way beyond that simple and apparently harmless play. Obviously none of them was hoping to get married but they were aware that this sort of exchanges didn't ease anything, quite the contrary. Why couldn't they just take the damn picture and be done with it?

«Your bowtie is crooked. We can't have a groom with a crooked bowtie after all this fuss.»

Without giving much thought to it, Phryne started to untie it, the back of her hand so close to his chest. Jack swallowed dryly as if to divert his brain from the effects of such simple motion. She raised his shirt's collar and proceeded in a very efficient manner: crossing the two ends of the tie over each other, pulling the one now on the left a bit more and tying a knot, folding and holding the other until it looked bow-shaped.

«It's only missing half of it now», she announced, her eyes still fixated on the black pieces of fabric, dropping the loose end over the first bow and taking it under and up, putting it through the knot that it had made meanwhile.

«Is it looking better?», Jack asked, more to break the silence than out of care for the appearance of the tie. Her hands kept being so close to his body, lightly and briefly touching his chest, his neck, sometimes even his jaw and chin.

«Now it will.», Phryne said, her arms around his neck so she could put down the collar, the side of her thumbs grazing his skin but her stare still on the bowtie. Despite the fact that no words were said about that subject, the very small space between their bodies didn't go unremarked by either of them nor did the memory of the other similar moment that had happened in his office not that long ago.

Both felt compelled to lean forward and kiss at last – a proper kiss this time, a kiss without the argument of 'safety reasons' underneath - , leaving all the doubts they had harboured and put an end to the expectation building inside them and to all the failed attempts they regretted so much, compelled to do the exact opposite of what had happened until then.

Phryne's arms were still around Jack's neck. He kept his alongside his frame at great cost, because all he wanted to do was to hold her in them. Their eyes darted from the other's to their lips and once again to their eyes and then back to their lips again. Jack noticed suddenly that he had actually stopped breathing. Phryne took a deep breath.

Why now? Why this man? She was also torn between the conflicting feelings that charade had forced to come forward. She knew they were there, pressing against her ribcage from now and then, that window of time getting smaller every time they did, but this insane situation that, at first had promised to be nothing more than fun and a way to get some justice , had brought them over her, made her have to ponder on them once more, with a poignancy she had rarely saw fit in the course of their relationship (a word she had some trouble using because it didn't seem to encapsulate the many layers of their bond). _It's all fun and games until someone loses their heart_, she paraphrased mentally. They were getting themselves closer to the fire, without knowing if it was time to stop or even if there would ever be a time to stop. And yet she had to go and look at his warm eyes and then look at his stupid crooked bowtie because Phryne Fisher wasn't the kind of woman to balk in front of a challenge but the playful yet tender smile on his face had been almost too much to bear.

Nevertheless, they weren't so enthralled they had completely forgotten the reasons why they hadn't given in to those impulses before. It wasn't the right time once again – it was never the right time – and who knew the consequences that could have come from such an action.

«The clock is ticking», said Jack eventually, pointing out something that there was no need to, given that the swing of the pendulum of the watch was the only thing heard in those minutes.

«It's good now», Phryne said, straightening each side of the bowtie.

»Archibald Jones makes a very dashing groom.

» Dot!», she called out almost immediately after that remark.

«I'm on my way, Miss.», the girl said somewhere from beyond the open back door, her steps on the tiles outside signaling she was getting closer to the house. When Dot walked into the kitchen, her arms were full with freshly picked flowers and leaves taken directly from the garden she and Mr. Butler tended to very devotedly.

Despite her load, she managed to close the door and put the flowers carefully on the table, walking towards them afterwards, hoping the agitation that had just shaken her wasn't visible in her expression.

«Could you spare just some moments more, Miss? Your bouquet isn't ready yet – I thought it was best to not make it much in advance or the flowers might start withering.»

«I guess we'll have to wait then.», Phryne said, looking quickly at her companion and then back at Jack.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you for taking the time to read this new chapter and for how supportive you have been. I'm really sorry for not having been able to update sooner, but I hope you find it was worth the wait.

I'm sorry if it sounds pretentious, but I must confess I'm curious about what people may think of it, considering that ever since it started to take shape in mind, even before writing a single word, I've been torn between considering it 'fan-servicey' but maybe interesting to 'fan-servicey' and certainly terrible.

Please allow me to remind you that I tried to be as accurate as possible both regarding canon and historical facts but it's easier said than done sometimes, especially because some details are all over the place in the show (like timelines) and others aren't even mentioned and the first may influence the latter (as well some bumps in research). Please forgive any inaccuracies derived from these circumstances.

It almost goes without saying that your comments/reviews will be highly appreciated. Thank you in advance, both for them and for your attention.


	7. Chapter 7 - Intermezzo

**Author's Note: **This was supposed to be a side-paragraph or two, but I'm afraid I got a bit carried away. That's why I don't even call it a chapter. I hope you don't find it too much of a bore. The dinner chapter will be next, I promise.

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><p><em><strong>Intermezzo<strong>_

_A hot flush of embarrassment shot through Dot's cheeks every time she came across the photographs of Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson she had taken that afternoon, a feeling particularly sharp because one of the reasons of such agitation was unwillingly more or less in the centre of every picture and it was nearly impossible to not have one's eye fixed on it even in the course of the briefest of glimpses._

_It didn't have anything to do with the particular quality of the results, but with a certain detail. Contrarily to what she expected, Dot had been more at ease with the photographer's role she had been assigned than what she would have guessed. Some months ago, she would have dreaded it a great deal, but now she had regarded it in a curious-filled light. _

_(Thankfully, the other picture which elicited such a reaction didn't have that particular element as well or it would have been too much. But she digressed… she meant to think about it as little as she could.)_

_«Dot, I'm going to get married today.», Miss Fisher had announced that morning between two bites of toast when she had brought the breakfast tray to her new room at number 17 on Christopher Crescent._

_She was aware that this undercover operation would entail her employer pretending to be married to Inspector Robinson, but she thought every detail had long __been__ taken care of and there was no need to put on a false wedding as well._

_«How so, Miss?», she asked, pouring some tea and making her doubts known._

_«People take photographic evidence more seriously than paper trails sometimes. It's very Saint Thomas-like of them. No offense meant. », Miss Fisher said, looking at her, before another bite of the toast._

_Dot smiled shyly and nodded._

_» So we're going to give them exactly that.»_

_Her employer's eyes sparkled brightly, a look Dot recognised as the thrill that came with having a new case in her hands, her mind scanning through all angles it could have and the many ways to turn its uncertainties in proven facts._

_«I need you to help me.»_

_The girl nodded, waiting to know how._

_«Somewhere I think I have a dress that can work, but I'll still need a veil, a bouquet, and a photographer. I'm sure you'll excel at all of them.», Miss Fisher said with a warm smile across her lips. _

_Dot knew she wasn't trying to flatter her insincerely, but hearing those words made her cheeks get a little red nevertheless._

_After the meal, they got the silk tulle from the House of Fleuri__, __where Madame Simone and Madame Renée had had a hard time swallowing that they wanted the fabric but not the expertise of the most skilled «_les petites mains» _of Australia. The complaint was easily put down though when Miss Fisher had said she had chosen to go there out of respect and appreciation for their work and the exquisite quality of the materials they used, but she could always go to Mr. Dobson's atelier to get what she wanted._

(Mesdames Fleuri took offense in the fact that one of their most loyal clients might think that an Englishman - an English man! - would be a better haute-couturier than them, but saying so out loud could be like handing her to him, and that they would never do, affinity for well-cut trousers aside.)

_The work to be done on the veil was quite simple – cut it and hem it, basically – but the tulle was so delicate, one could not be too careful, so Dot took a little bit longer than what her abilities normally afforded her to._

_She had then tidied up and arranged the dress her employer would wear and helped her fetch the accessories needed to compose that particular look._

_Miss Fisher had chatted joyfully as always as they worked, but she got a little quitter once or twice when the conversation had drifted in Inspector Robinson's direction._

_There had been some months since Dot had noticed that there was something between them that went over the limits of their professional relationship. Truth be told, it wasn't something that hard to puzzle out for someone who stood in the same room as them if only for five minutes, but now that she was aware of their connection, she couldn't help but wonder sometimes how oblivious she must have been back then. Their conversation ran smoothly, the references they brought up tied their bond, the energy in the air changed when they were together. Miss Fisher had hinted once or twice to her about the shift in their situation, but even if she had never delved much into it, Dot could see that things would never be simple and easy. _

_Did she root for them to get out of that standstill? She did, even if she acknowledged that she wasn't surely in the possession of all the circumstances and facts that kept them in such a precarious position. More than anything, she wanted Miss Fisher to be happy, whether with the Inspector in her life – in any capacity – or no. _

_Dot was so grateful to Miss Fisher's she was afraid she might never be able to convey how much. She had told her sometimes, but was afraid her words weren't precise enough. Without knowing anything about her, Miss Fisher had offered to help when she had been taken to questioning over the poison in the sugar and when she had appeared desperate in her room at The Hotel Windsor, she had given her a job even after she had been dismissed from the previous one without a reference and for this she would always be indebted. Yet, she would be more so because of how much richer and interesting her life was since they had met as well. Dot still saw a settled life in her future – and she really welcomed those moments where she cooked and sew and listened to the radio plays she liked so much in peace after a busy day of investigation and chores - , but she knew now that there was much more out there, even if she wasn't still completely at ease with some less orthodox choices of her employer._

_« Would you need me to help you some more in here? It's ten to noon, perhaps it would be best if the bouquet starts getting taken care of, Miss.»_

_«Oh, yes, Dot! How time flies.», Miss Fisher said, turning to her after she had set the brooch on the right shoulder of the dress in place. _

_» I'll finish the last details myself. Thank you, Dot.», she continued, facing her until she closed the door._

_Dot was about to go to the garden when the front door bell rang and called her back to the hallway. _

_«Good morning, Inspector.», she greeted, reaching out to take his overcoat and his hat. He was already dressed formally. Once side by side, she was sure they would look like the moving pictures stars she saw in the magazines._

_«Good morning, Miss Williams.»_

_«Miss Fisher will be right down. Can I get you anything while you wait?»_

_«No, thank you. _

_» Miss Williams, I'm sorry to bring it up again, I know you already replied to this on the phone but do you have more information about why does Miss Fisher want me here at this hour?»_

_«She really prefers to be the one to tell you, Inspector. I'm sorry I can't help you, but I'm sure you understand her.»_

_The inspector had nodded silently._

_«Now, if you excuse me, I have some things Miss Fisher asked me to take care of. Feel at home, please.», she said._

_«Oh, yes. I don't mean to keep you from your tasks. I'll wait here for her.»_

_Dot left him in the hallway, standing in front of the mirror, wrestling with his bowtie._

_S__he had always liked flowers, found the beauty and grace of the golden wattle that sheltered the small backyard of her family's house from the sun, the rhododendron around the church and the bottlebrushes in the garden nearby another undeniable proof of God's existence, an opinion she had held ever since she was very young. But Dot's fascination with them had deepened even more when she learnt they could have a secret connotation, the subtle language they could convey. She doubted that Father Grogan would approve if word got around the parish that someone had received a handful of red, coral and orange roses, the subtext overshadowing the delicacy of the petals and the richness of the colours, but she was astonished with the range of possible meanings nevertheless._

_As she walked amongst the garden plots, her keen eye quickly selected which flowers and shrubberies would make a beautiful bouquet. But when after having picked some bowenia, camellia, and leather leaf fern, she folded her knees and leaned towards the first bloom she had chosen, Dot stopped suddenly, a stem already between the open blades of the pair of scissors she was holding. Hit by the unexpected realisation, her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened a little. Her first impulse was to change her choice immediately. Even if she had grown braver over the last months she would never be able to face Miss Fisher and the Inspector with a neutral expression if she moved forward and presented such flowers. _

_Yet, a faint glimmer of hope started to take hold of her – maybe she wasn't very familiar with that secret language! But Dot couldn't be so sure, Miss Fisher was knowledgeable about so many themes she could definitely imagine decoding this sort of messages as being part of her skill__set. Perhaps she wasn't as uninterested in the fate of Miss Fisher and the Inspector's relationship as she had believed…_

_Dot straightened her back and looked around, trying to come up with alternatives, but her sensibility didn't seem to let her find other suitable ones, even if she put the significance question aside. She was proud of how the garden looked, but the African violets were purple, the dahlias sort of blueish, the dutch irises were yellow, there were some white snapdragons amidst the colourful flowerbeds but they would be too tall, and while the fullness of the hydrangeas looked good in a vase, it wouldn't go very well with the style of the appropriate bouquet. _

_She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and then looked at her wristwatch. 12.07 o'clock. Miss Fisher had probably come down already; she couldn't keep her waiting anymore. _

I'm sure you'll excel. _Dot couldn't shake away the words Miss Fisher had told her that morning, the trust she had coated them with, and as she remembered them once again she knew. _

_In order to excel, she knew she would have with her first instinct, any hidden significances aside, she concluded, a deep breath punctuating her resolution. After that had been settled, she didn't need much time to gather a handful of white gardenias, peonies, and spray roses._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Once again, I hope you enjoyed this little detour. I guess I couldn't stop fussing about all the details in the wedding picture scenario and just throw a bunch of random flowers in Phyrne's hands.

I'd like to thank two people (not including any reference because I'm not sure if they would mind it or not) for their assistance regarding Australian flora, particularly helpful in that bit about the flowers in Dot's environment apart from St. Kilda. Any mistakes derived from interpreting their advice are on me though.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and for your support throughout these weeks. As usual, your comments/reviews/messages/the works are very appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for your support over this time, for all the views, comments and interesting conversations that spun from them._

_As promised, here's the chapter where Phryne and Jack have dinner with the Yateses at last. I hope it lives up to your expectations._

_I'd like to add that Wendell Yates is not supposed to be related to Cec at all. This surname had been on my notes for a while and, to be honest, I didn't even remember Cec's when I decided on it. Because I seem to have some trouble in changing a character's name once everything is in place, I decided to keep it in this story._

* * *

><p>Jack had been pacing in front of the big bay window of the living room with his hands in his pockets for about twenty minutes.<p>

From time to time, he stole a glance at the brass clock on the mantelpiece and at the photograph they had put on top of the piano that afternoon, amongst the ones Mr. Butler had found shoved in a drawer of the guest bedroom, old enough for them to hope that neither Yates nor his wife would recognise the persons depicted.

He knew better than to look at it but he kept feeling drawn to it nevertheless. Dot had been afraid she might ruin something at first – the camera, the photograph or the operation -, but she had learnt Miss Fisher's directions pretty quickly and the result was quite good. And yet this wasn't the main reason why his gaze was compelled to the contents of that silver frame.

Eight more steps from the left to the right of the room. Another look at the clock. Eight more steps from the right to the left of the room. Another look at the picture.

The portrait showed Phryne standing a bit ahead of him, both with their bodies slightly turned to the side yet still facing the lens. Her head was a little tilted towards his, a warm grin across her face and a more reserved but genuine smile on his.

As he looked at that image, he remembered the way her words had guided him, the feeling of her shoulder rubbing on his chest as she moved around to find the perfect pose. Jack lifted his hand and touched that same exact spot with his fingers, over the placket of his dress shirt. What they tried to conceal from themselves – from themselves and/or from the world, he wasn't quite sure – shone through the photograph and one didn't even need to look very hard to find it. There was no tension in their muscles, no smile that bent the corners of their mouths but that didn't reach their eyes, no obvious evidence that that picture was anything other than a memento of a loving couple's wedding day.

He resumed walking back and forward, trying to compose himself, to store those doubts in a remote corner of his mind and to prepare to inhabit Archibald Jones' role.

« Are you trying to wear out the floor or to break in new shoes?», Phryne said amusingly, pausing from reading the magazine she had in her hands to turn to him.

Despite paying attention to the some of the pages, when she was just flicking through the sections that didn't interest her, she had caught him looking at their picture once or twice through the reflection on the mirror. As he seemed to do, Phryne didn't dare to look at it much; there were more pressing matters at hand, so it was best to direct their minds towards them as soon as possible.

«Am I that transparent?» he said, sitting on the sofa in front of her eventually.

« Occasionally. Now you are, if you're trying to imbue some realism into the proceedings. I'm sure people are a bundle of anxiety when they're waiting for the mighty Wendell Yates to come and visit.», she said, raising an eyebrow.

Jack smiled.

» Should I ask Mr. Butler to make you one of his famous cocktails? I'm sure that's also what people do when they are in this situation.»

«No, thank you. Perhaps it's best if I save it for later.»

He shot another glance at the clock. 7h25.

The house had been thoroughly cleaned and arranged, Dot and Mr. Butler had prepared an exquisite meal and set the French oak dining table with the finest linens, china, glassware, and silverware brought specifically from the St. Kilda home.

Jack was wearing his dinner jacket twice in the same day for the first time in his life and Phryne looked resplendent in an elegant dusty rose silk chiffon dress worn over a slip in the same colour. He had tried his best not to look too gobsmacked when he had seen her come out of the master bedroom, on his left, still fastening one of the drop diamond and pearl earrings in the precise moment when he had gotten out of the guest lodgings.

She had set her headquarters at Christopher Crescent – it was best to have someone home at all most times, just in case -, but he still went back to Cinder Street every night. In that afternoon, he had appeared at the promised two o'clock on the doorstep holding a suitcase in his hand, after having gone back to work once the pictures had been taken. Unwilling to rumple his dinner clothes with another motorcar drive, he had ironed and stored the dark suit and the white shirt carefully following his mother's directions, seamstress' tricks taught long ago, and asked if he could change there.

«Miss Fisher», he had said.

«Jack!», she had called, a bit startled. She hadn't noticed the next door opening.

» The rings!», she had said an instant after. Seeing him had reminded her that Fern's rings were still on her vanity table and she went back inside her room to fetch them.

Knowing it wouldn't take much time, he had waited for her in the hallway, in front the door, hearing the heels of her silver shoes on the floor as she walked and taking a surreptitious glance at the inside. He didn't exactly want to stand there and look but his curiosity had been lured by the mild but pleasant aroma of her perfume and of the bergamot lotion she had smoothed her skin with.

It was a well-sized aqua-coloured room with another bay window in the wall ahead from there one could see the downhill of the front lawn extending up to the fence, framed by pleated velvet curtains in dark teal and a light layer of tulle that could be shut in order to keep away unwanted gazes.

Perpendicularly to the door, there was a dark rosewood Louis XV-style large bed with a high headboard and a carved_ rinceau_ motif along the rails, covered by a matching teal velvet bedspread, a bolster and three throw pillows dressed in the same fabric.

Peach-coloured two-piece silk pyjamas had been laid on the bed, next to the _chinoiserie_ dressing gown in black with detailed stitched birds and floral motifs in beige, coral, green, and red he had seen her already wear before. On the floor was a pair of marabou slippers in the same shade of the sleeping things.

Jack had wanted to avert his eyes, turn his back on that tempting open door but the interest that had lead him to look in first didn't seem to wither with his objections.

Meanwhile Phryne had walked towards the vanity table, a beautiful piece of furniture surmounted with a rosewood-framed mirror and with a grand marble top which was covered with the bottles of her French perfume, her creams, and her make up, tucked in the corner between the window and one of the side tables in the same style of the bed. She grabbed the rings and turned around, their gazes meeting again when she had done so.

«There's no need to stay there. Do come in if you want.

» If we leave the door open, it can't be considered scandalous, can it? The type of clothing present in the scene notwithstanding », she had said, still looking at him, pointing discreetly to the garments Dot had just brought from the laundry, having noticed his quick glance at them.

«Perhaps it's best if we stay above any possible reproach, for the time being at least, Miss Fisher, the type of clothing present in the scene notwithstanding.», he had replied, holding her stare.

«If I didn't know you weren't always such a spoilsport, I could believe you were completely against fun.», Phryne had said, walking towards him, whilst putting Fern's rings on her finger.

«I'm very glad we know each other well enough to see beyond first impressions, then.», he had said, offering her his arm.

«I am too.», she had agreed, taking it before they were side by side already on their way through the foyer to the drawing room.

7h27. Jack got up from the sofa and went near the window. Phryne kept reading, only stopping when Mr. Butler had come in to inform that everything that could be taken care of in advance of the dinner was ready.

«The only thing missing are the guests.», Mr. Butler concluded, with a slightly gleeful tone in his voice.

« Not anymore.», Jack announced when he saw a dark green motorcar park a bit before the gate.

Phryne closed her magazine, stored it in the dark Viennese Thonet rack by the sofa, got up and grabbed her pearl elbow-length gloves from the back of the couch. She put them on and checked her look in the mirror over the fireplace one last time. Her red lipstick had carefully been applied, the diamond bandeau in her hair was in place. The kimono-like sleeves of the dress opened from shoulder to wrist and fell alongside her body, revealing her arms when she moved, the tips of the inner ends secured in the front a bit below waist-level by two enamel and white gold flower brooches. From where the v-shaped neckline of the gown ended the fabric was molded into a slightly asymmetrical draped skirt that went down to her chins - the effect less heavy to the eye by the fact that the slip ended before that.

« You look wonderful», Jack said when he passed by her on his way to the foyer. He had almost added _Phryne_ to those words for some reason, perhaps lead by the same boldness that had taken over him in that moment. He had thought she looked magnificent many times and in many outfits – including without any make-up and in _that_ chinoiserie dressing gown – but out of shyness he had never uttered a word about it.

«I know.», she replied with a smile, following him.

» But thank you.», Phryne continued, a bit surprised by the compliment; coming from him, it had seemed rather audacious.

The disk on the record player had come to an end meanwhile and the present silence allowed them to hear Mr and Mrs Yates' steps on the sandstone floor. They seemed to be in the middle of the second staircase.

«Will you please open the door, Mr Butler? I think they would like to know they were acknowledged before they had to ring.», Phryne asked.

He assented to the request right away, but Phryne and Jack paused for an instant before getting out.

«Ready?», she asked Jack, who was standing right by her side, looking at him.

«Ready. You?»

Phryne let out a small laugh.

«Let's go, then.»

**xxx**

They hadn't had a chance to talk about how the dinner was going so far yet, but both Phryne and Jack were satisfied with its progress and tried to convey it through the surreptitious looks they were able to briefly exchange. They were seating in front of each other, Phryne with Yates by her side and Jack with Olympia by his.

Perhaps warmed by the gin rickeys expertly prepared by 'Mr. Brewer', the conversation had run smoothly after a small halt once the guests had arrived, Olympia Yates had been introduced and the initial remarks about what a wonderful house the Jones' had had been made. The enthusiastic reaction to the drinks had prompted Jack to say:

«I hope you're not thinking of stealing our butler and hire him as the new Elvsworth barman, are you?»

The humorous comment seemed to lighten the mood and launch them in an agreeable conversation that kept going on so in the dining room, a dark red area with elegant furniture, another imposing marble fireplace and fine oil paintings on the walls, following Mr. Butler's announcement that the meal was served.

They talked generally about Archibald and Yates' jobs – the afternoon training Jack had applied himself to on specific terms, graphics, and other data had been very helpful - , Fern and Olympia's charity work and travels, the Melbourne Symphonic Orchestra concerts they had gone to at the Melbourne Town Hall over the last months, but golf revealed to be quite an intense theme.

In terms of the food presented so far, things seemed to be going well too. The guests had appeared very impressed with the caviar served as hors d'oevres, while Mr. Butler and Dot, who would be playing 'Daisy' for the evening given that just to be sure Phryne and Jack had seen better to conceal their real identities, prepared the _Consommé Alexandra_ that would be brought from the kitchen afterwards. The '_Mousseline de Saumon À La Tosca'_ had been praised for its delicate taste and by the how pleasantly it looked on the plate.

The guests were enjoying the last forkfuls of '_Côtelettes a la Provençale'_ garnished with _'timbales of rice à la grecque'_, when Yates started to shift the focus of the conversation from other themes usually prone to be chit-chat fodder to Archibald and Fern's lives previously to their wish to join the Elvsworth Club.

«If I remember correctly, you mentioned in the previous time we met that you were born in Melbourne, Mr Jones? Isn't that so?»

«Yes, I was, but my family moved to Egypt when I was very young.»

At first, Jack and Commissioner Harker had thought that creating a full story set in the city would be easier to keep under control, but the more they investigated about the members of the club, the more they realised that it was only an illusion. Too many of them were more or less of Jack's age and would have attended the schools Jones was supposed to and moved in the circles that should be his as well.

«I came back to Melbourne once I finished my education in Sydney, after the war, and I stayed here until I got involved in the study in Scotland.»

Phryne observed Yates' reaction, trying to figure out if he was convinced by this broad telling of Archibald Jones' life. He seemed to be so, but he could always be simply standing back and let Jack dig himself into a deeper hole.

«Did you enjoy living in Egypt?», asked Olympia. Despite having met for more than an hour, Phryne still didn't know exactly what to think of her.

« I did. I have fond memories of the long warm afternoons, how imposing the pyramids are when one sees them with their own eyes, the vivacity of the street markets.»

As Jack spoke, he noticed that these 'fond memories' were perhaps too cliché, nothing that would actually seem to have been lived. It looked like he hadn't paid as much attention as he had believed to Deputy Commissioner Cahill's conversations about the time he had been stationed in Egypt during the War. The military part of those times was kept to a minimum but he enjoyed talking about the country, its history, and living there. Perhaps it was best to look for him and brush up those details, just in case Yates thought it would be a good topic to bring up at Elvsworth, if they ever got accepted.

« Why Egypt? Was there any particular reason?», Olympia asked.

«My father was a civil servant, in fact. »

The workforce needed to keep the empire running was so extensive and spread across such vast lands they were counting on it to provide a proper family story for his character.

« And you, Mrs. Jones? Were you born in Melbourne as well?», asked Yates, turning his attention to Phryne now.

« I was, but I didn't live here for long either.»

«A public servant parent?», asked Olympia.

Considering Yates' reaction towards herself, Phryne had already pondered on it maybe being a reflection of how he thought women should behave. She acknowledged there was a chance it might not be a fair assessment, but in light of it, she had pictured his wife to be a quiet, soft-spoken woman. Yet, despite Olympia Yates' gracefulness, her steps were imbued in confidence and she didn't shy away from voicing her high regard of Mr. Butler's cocktails or the easiness with which she was asking that kind of questions alongside her husband.

«Boarding school.», Phryne replied.

« How curious! I went to boarding school too.

» Is there any chance we may have almost met at the Presbyterian Ladies' College in Melbourne?»

Olympia's hazel eyes were fixed on Phryne, their colour set off by the rust tone of her dress. Her short wavy blond hair was adorned by a diamond hair clip that matched the earrings pending from her ears, which flickered with the light coming from the Crystal chandelier hung above the table.

« I'm sure we would have gotten along famously if we had met there», Miss Fisher said, putting on her best smile, « but I went to boarding school in England. »

» Roedean, in fact.»

Phryne talked naturally, she hoped, after having had to change the story midway: in theory, Fern would have attended the exact school Olympia had gone to. Perhaps it was too risky to draw inspiration from her own life, but it was the first name that came across her head to fill the silence that followed the English boarding school confession and to satisfactorily reply to the eager look on her guests' faces.

«And now you are back in Melbourne.», concluded Yates.

«And now we are back in Melbourne.», Jack repeated with a somewhat strained smile, that he tried to recompose as soon as he noticed that it had been his reaction to this departure from the original story.

» Hopefully to stay. Fern and I would very much like to.», he continued, looking at Phryne, who smiled at him a grin so truthful he didn't stumble in his words nor did he look away. He couldn't do so, and it wasn't simply because it might look suspicious.

«We think the Elvsworth can be a fixture in this life we want to build for ourselves here.», Phryne said.

« You are very "dangerous", if I may say so like this, aren't you, Mrs. Jones?», Yates had on his face an expression of masked contempt Phryne didn't like .

«I don't think there's anything dangerous in wanting to join a club of civilised, well-mannered, and well-connected people. Do you?», she replied.

» But if that's the case. We thank you for your warning before committing ourselves to such decision.»

Antagonising Yates wasn't exactly the way things were supposed to go, but that remark had thrown her over the edge, more than what she would have thought if presented with a brief outline of the situation beforehand. Phryne was then glad that Mr. Butler and Dot were clearing the table and brushing off any crumbs left at table with a silver crumb scraper onto a tray held under the edge before serving dessert.

« I confess I'm asking too many questions, but you must forgive me and allow me one more, if you'd be so kind. », Olympia said already with the _Glace Carmen_ in front of her. Service was running as efficiently and elegantly as planned, but in face of the somewhat awkward exchange between Miss Fisher and Mr. Yates, they had sped the proceedings slightly, enough to overcome it without compromising the overall impression.

» Well, I can't exactly promise it will be the last question of all, because I have to acknowledge I'm of a very curious nature, but it will be the last for now, at least.», she continued, with a not that unapologetic look on her face.

» I'm sorry if I seem too nosy, but you two are so interesting it left me wondering: How did you meet?», Olympia asked eventually, her eyes darting from the host to the hostess.

Phryne and Jack exchanged another look. More than something that Archie and Fern could do, it had been an impulse neither of them could have avoided no matter how much they would have tried.

_At a ball, introduced by distant family members that were friends. As soon as we met, everything clicked and we both knew we'd marry someday._

_«_ At a tea party that didn't take place in the end due to unforeseen circumstances.»

Phryne's gaze shifted from Olympia's face to Jack's. He had lowered his eyes but was smiling despite her digression from the script.

» We both wanted the bathroom. I apologise, we are still at the table, but that's how the story went.», she continued with a shrug in the end.

» He didn't seem very thrilled with my presence, but deep down I think he was curious about me.»

«We didn't get along that day but something or someone must really want us to because we met again in a train to Ballarat the week after.», Jack said, speaking as if no one else was in the room but Phryne.

« I'm glad I passed down the opportunity to meet a 'distinguished dental technician' to meet a rather civilised statistician then that day.»

«From that moment on, I had to come to terms with the fact that we would never be away from each other for long.», Jack said in a tone that showed that he didn't regret it being so.

« I do like a man with a plan.»

Since they had started taking, the Yateses had kept quiet. Or so Phryne and Jack had the feeling.

«What a lovely story.

» I'm glad I asked.», Olympia said with a little laugh.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you so much for reading this chapter. As said above, I hope you enjoyed it, even if it probably ended up being more focused on Phryne and Jack than exactly on the risk of the discovery of their identities even before being accepted in Elvsworth, but after 8 chapters, you've probably already noticed why I'm writing this.

I never read the books and I must acknowledge I don't remember if any particular school was ever mentioned when it comes to Phryne's academic life, so forgive me if it happened and please be so kind as to accept Roedean in this universe.

The dishes mentioned were taken from "A Guide to Modern Cookery" by Georges Auguste Escoffier and I have no idea if having these flavours in the same meal would make sense because they were basically chosen based upon the ingredients and photos I found online, but I tried to have them served in the correct order at least. I believe I read somewhere that Kerry Greenwood is very particular in her descriptions of food, but this will have to do for the time being, I'm afraid.

As usual, please forgive any possible inaccuracies derived from possible failings in research in this and in other contexts.

If you feel inclined to do so, please feel free to leave a comment or send me a message. I enjoy them immensely and always appreciate hearing from you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **A guest left a comment asking about the meaning of the flowers Dot picked for Fern's/Phryne bouquet. There are many 'languages of flowers', but these are the meanings that lead me to choose these particular blooms (taken from some websites):

- Gardenia: 'Secret Love' / 'You are lovely'  
>- Peony: Good Fortune Prosperity /(but more in theme) «romance and love, and are regarded as the omen of good fortune and happy marriage.» Honour and wealth / In some cultures the peonies may also convey shame.  
>- [white] Roses: «Purity &amp; Innocence, Reverence &amp; Humility, Heavenly &amp; Honor, Everlasting love, Marriages and New Beginnings, I am worthy of you, Beauty &amp; Youthfulness, Remembrance»  I also read 'secrecy' somewhere.  
>I chose 'spray roses' because they looked good on the type of bouquets popular at the time.<p>

Feel free to ask me things whenever you feel like it. I love to hear from you and very interesting conversations have already risen from reviews left here.

Thank you for continuing to read this story even if the updates aren't as frequent as everyone (both you and me) would like, but sometimes writing isn't simply 'happening' for many reasons.

I hope you enjoy the following chapter.

* * *

><p>Now that the guests were off, Phryne had gone to the kitchen to tell Dot and Mr. Butler that they could finish for the day and conclude taking care of the dishes the next day if they wanted. None of them seemed very keen on taking her offer though, so she left the room behind, unwilling to keep them from their task.<p>

She was walking up the stairs that lead to the hallway when the she started to hear the sound of a piano. Knowing very well the part of the house it came from, she tiptoed up the remaining steps and across the hall until she was by the doorframe of the drawing room, standing in an angle that allowed her to not be easily seen from the inside, even if Jack was visibly focused on what he was doing.

The chandelier had been turned off and the room was only lit by the small matching crystal and bronze wall sconces placed on strategic points and by the glow that came from the blaze in the fireplace. It made the drawing room seem not so large anymore, cozy even, something it rarely conveyed despite how luxurious it was.

Jack was playing the vertical piano set against the wall between the windows. From where Phryne stood, she could see his profile, his left hand and the tip of his right fingers lightly pressing the keys as if to make them sound quieter, his back straight but not stiff.

It felt strange to lurk in the dark like that even if he seemed so at ease, but it also felt odd to disturb him, something Phryne become aware of when she realized she was unable to both take her eyes off him and also to walk towards him or to call his attention somehow.

Olympia and Yates had left about an hour ago and he could have easily followed suit, but was still there. They hadn't been able to discuss the dinner in much detail yet, but there was certainly more to it. He was waiting for their nightcap perhaps. _Definitely waiting for their nightcap_, Phryne believed, hoping it wouldn't sound extremely pretentious, especially because she regarded it in a similar way.

He didn't stop playing but she noticed that it the melody had turned into a new song. Still trying to make as less noise and be as less intrusive as she could, she tiptoed her way to the piano.

When she was about a foot away, Jack looked over his left shoulder but he kept the music going, the look on his face denouncing that he was surprised by her presence there but didn't mind it at all. Phryne sat next to him in the bit of the stool that was available, her back turned to the piano and her legs slightly bent under the seat.

_«Though I know that we meet every night / And we couldn't have changed since the last time_», Phryne sung, well but not in a not very loud tone, nudging him playfully.

«_To my joy and delight / It's a new kind of love at first sight_», Jack ended up conceding, still looking at her, a somewhat shy smile on his face, making a little pause after the last words.

«_Though it's you and it's I all the time / Every meeting's a marvelous pastime_», their voices perfectly matched in pace for the following lines of the lyrics, despite the fact that they felt the weight of each verse.

«_Oh, the moon's not a moon for a night /and these stars will not twinkle and fade out,/ and the words in my ears /will resound for the rest of my years /In the morning I find with delight /not a note of our music is played out._», the song went at some point.

Jack looked at Phryne. None of them said anything, but in their minds both acknowledged that they should have perhaps put an end to the singing before it had taken such a path. They seemed to know the all the lines, so they had to be conscious of their theme, of how those words were dangerously close to their reality and yet they had chosen to continue. Despite it all, 'Let's Misbehave' had seemed much vaguer, filled with 'we's which were applied broadly, one 'I' and a couple of 'you's thrown in there for good measure.

He wasn't exactly a believer of such things, but it was hard to not start wondering if it wasn't indeed true that something or someone must really want them to be together.

« _I'm touching your hand / It tells that you're standing near, and / at the sound of your voice / heaven opens its portals to me. / Can I help but rejoice /that a song such as ours came to be? / But I always knew /I would live life through /with a song in my heart for you_.»

On her side of the stool, Phryne wasn't as apologetic and regretful as she felt perhaps she should. It was a recurring thought, but how could it not be when the circle was getting tighter and tighter and it was even more difficult to avoid this frame of thought.

Jack played the last note and said, turning to her:

« I heard this on the wireless yesterday night and it got stuck in my head, I'm afraid.»

They were standing close to each other once again. So close they would touch even if they didn't mean to and both seemed aware of that, considering that they kept as quiet as they could be.

« It's a great song, there's no need to apologise.», she replied with a smile on her face, « and I think our rendition was nearly perfect.»

« I am in no place to judge.», he replied playfully.

» I think the dinner went well, wouldn't you agree?»

Phryne was a bit taken aback by the sudden change of theme. It wasn't completely out of tone, but, at the same time, she expected them to linger on other matters for a while more.

« I do. It was agreeable and I hope to hear soon from Yates. He still has to take the paperweight after all.»

« For a moment I thought we might have lost him, though.»

«The man just gets under my nerves. And not in a good way.», Phryne said, stretching her hands in the air.

«He told me he wanted a second opinion about the paperweight, so I guess you'll have to endure having him here at least another time.»

« Are you teasing me, Jack?», she asked not seriously at all.

«You can't always be the one doing so, Miss Fisher.», he said with an amused smile on his face.

» I guess Yates needs as much validation as the perspective members of the Elvsworth.»

« Do you think he has had anything to do with the murders?», Phryne asked more seriously.

It was odd to notice how little they had talked about the investigation, considering it was the inception of those circumstances and of utmost importance. Three people had died, after all.

«He may have, I believe it's too soon to tell. The investigation the police carried about the victims' lives didn't find out many details that might indicate motive for murder but the part of their stories connected with their participation in the Elvsworth keeps being rather vague so far. Even if it's only speculation at this point, I wouldn't rule out completely that we may not have many suspects now because we may simply haven't met them yet.»

« Even considering it is a private club, there's a lot of secrecy around it.», Phryne acknowledged.

» If they end up accepting Fern and Archibald - as they will absolutely do – the Elvsworth better be as good as advertised.»

Jack smiled.

«I'm sure Wendell Yates' first and foremost concern will be matching your expectations, Miss Fisher.»

Those 'Miss Fisher's with which he finished some sentences were sounding more and more out of place as of late. For Jack, at first, they had come out of his politeness and in part they still did, but he wondered sometimes if they weren't also an unconscious way to keep some distance, to remind them both of the particular context of their relationship, to keep them in check.

During the past weeks, Phryne had considered telling him that he could call her by her Christian name whenever he wanted, not only when in distress or in extreme moments when he wanted to catch her attention as he had done so far. She had been on a first name-basis with him for the most part of their acquaintance, hadn't she? Yet, Phryne still hadn't said a word, wishing perhaps he would do so on his own accord eventually.

«Would you like something to drink?», she asked.

«I'm afraid I had my fair share for today, between the aperitif, dinner, and having to keep company to Yates in the dining room after the ladies left.»

«Oh, it's true! How could I have almost forgotten… How did that go?», Phryne asked, rearranging herself on the stool, folding her right leg under herself so she could face him even more directly now.

«Well enough, I guess? But it didn't help much to advance the investigation, I'm afraid.»

Jack had turned his body too, so they were looking even more squarely at each other.

» Thankfully, he didn't want to go to the billiards room and play, so it was a favourable start but after some political conversation and paperweight-showing we joined you in the parlour.

»How about Olympia? Was she more cooperative?»

« Not exactly, I would say. She mentioned how devoted to the Elvsworth her husband is – there was no need to say it because he simply glows when he talks about it – and the deep impact the deaths had on him, work-wise and beyond. He has put his doctor's practice on hold for the moment because everything at the Elvsworth was in shambles and he couldn't in his heart let such historical institution falter.

» I also learnt they have been married for 12 years and have an 8-year-old son. Hardly anything we didn't know already.», she said with a shrug.

«We must have patience.», Jack said to appease both of them it turned out. She might be slightly more vocal about it, but he didn't need to think much to discover he was tired of that long process too. If the Joneses were accepted at the Elvsworth good, they would have a new development from which to draw their investigation, if not, the sooner it was known the better, so the Police could come up with other ways to find the answers they had been looking for.

The conversation came to a halt and he appeared rather restless, his jaw shut tensely, his hands tapping on his knees. Phryne had already seen him like that. Many times, in fact, right before he bid his goodbyes, went to search for his hat and overcoat, and left.

« Must you go?», she asked, even if he hadn't yet said a word but the lower way he was holding his head and his pursed lips gave away the he was on the brink of doing so. The sound of that question reverberated in her mind, the tone perhaps more pleading than what she had intended, but that she couldn't completely cast out.

«I'm afraid I must.», he replied regretfully.

A rather bold wish took hold of him. He did want to stay, but that he couldn't reveal or act upon. It wouldn't be the first time they'd be sleeping under the same roof and considering how the undercover operation was going it probably wouldn't be the only one – a prospect that tightened his stomach when it came across his mind -, but nothing of what had happened in the last day was similar to what had taken place in the chalet. Back then it had derived from having been snowed in but giving in to this invitation would be setting a very dangerous precedent they couldn't allow themselves in that moment.

» Gregor is relying on me to have his dinner, you see.», Jack justified. It was true, but even if he didn't have the dog with which to excuse himself, he would have had come up with other reason to leave in that moment.

« That detail had slipped from my mind, I believe», Phryne acquiesced.

» Let it be known that, in the future, if you need to stay here and have provided for Gregor to have his dinner any other way, your room will be waiting for you.», she said in what she expected was a lively and light tone, trying to compensate for the disappointment she found within herself.

« Thank you for the offer. It's very tempting but we'll have to put a pin on it for another time.»

Jack got up from the stool sorrowfully, reaching out his hand to help Phryne afterwards. He knew she didn't need it, but he had felt prodded to do so nevertheless and moved by a similar feeling she had taken it.

They walked to the hallway in silence, Phryne's heels hitting the wooden floor as if they were the tick of a clock marking that time was running out and soon he would be off to a house she had never been to, a house she didn't even know exactly where it was, in fact. She was once again slightly haunted by how little she knew of him and yet it was strange to remark that apart from the shock of such realization and the curiosity that understandably came in tow not knowing those things didn't dramatically change her feelings for him. (Although the exact words with which to define those feelings was something much more difficult to ascertain.)

« What if Yates is hiding in the next street corner and he sees Archie leaving at this time of the night?», she said when they were by the coat stand , Jack already holding the brim of his hat in his fingers.

Perhaps that jab had been over the line, uncalled for even, now that they had been able to negotiate a way to part for the night, but Phryne was feeling rather wistful. She acknowledged it wasn't the most honest reason for which to want him there, but as fun and entertaining getting ready for the photographs, taking them, and preparing the dinner and living through that evening had been, the emotions it had elicited didn't mix well with the tiredness that was wearing her down after that long day. _Get yourself together, _she thought. Vowing to not say a word more before his reply, she waited.

« I'm sure we'll come up with something suitable, if that's the case. », Jack was also off his game now. Despite all the constraints he could name on the spot that advised him of how imprudent staying there would be, he we was getting less and less sure he would have abided by them, so he was truly glad Gregor made him have to go home.

Phryne brought herself to open the door and moved a bit to the side to make way for Jack.

« I may drop by the station tomorrow. See if there are any news.»

« You'll be very welcome as usual.»

«As usual? How things have changed!», Phryne said, laughing, completely at ease now, a state of mind that influenced that Jack's as well.

«Goodnight.»

Jack was already on the outdoor step, framed by the threshold, a dark blue sky dotted in stars behind him.

«Goodnight.» , she replied, keeping her eyes on him until he got in the car and drove out of sight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **«With A Song In My Heart» is the name of the song Phryne and Jack sing and it obviously doesn't belong to me in any way or capacity. The lyrics were written by Lorenz Hart, the music was composed by Richard Rodgers, and it was part of their 1929 musical _«Spring is Here»_.

I hope there's some part of fair use that can be applicable to this case because I don't mean any copywright infringement. I just wanted to have these two singing again. If you're curious about how it sounds, look for Leo Reisman Orchestra and Ran Weeks' version - you can easily find it on youtube. The lyrics are easily accessible too.

(Not sure if including links will not stall this, so I'm afraid I have to send you look for it yourself).

I hope you find the song as suitable to both the moment and to their story as I did.

I know it doesn't develop the plot much, but sometimes I just find myself writing these little bits that cater to the romantic side of the equation.

As usual, feel free to review/comment/etc. Like I wrote above, it's always wonderful to hear from you. Thank you in advance.

P.s: Don't hate Gregor.


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